The light was shining full upon Dr. Boekman's face. How contented he looked; how much younger and brighter than formerly. The hard lines were quite melting away. He was laughing as he said to the father, "Am I not a happy man, Raff Brinker? My son will sell out his factory this month and open a warehouse in Amsterdam. I shall have all my spectacle cases for nothing."

Hans started from his reverie. "A warehouse, mynheer! And will Thomas Higgs--I mean, is your son not to be your assistant again?"

A shade passed over the meester's face, but he brightened with an effort as he replied, "Oh, no, Laurens has had quite enough of that. He wishes to be a merchant."

Hans appeared so surprised and disappointed that his friend asked good-naturedly, "Why so silent, boy? Is it any disgrace to be a merchant?"

"N-not a disgrace, mynheer," stammered Hans, "but--"

"But what?"

"Why, the other calling is so much better," answered Hans, "so much nobler. I think, mynheer," he added with enthusiasm, "that to be a surgeon, to cure the sick and crippled, to save human life, to be able to do what you have done for my father, is the grandest thing on earth."